Fanon:Simbot Takeover: Difference between revisions
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==Prologue== |
==Prologue== |
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I didn't want to do it. I had to. If I didn't, I would be thrown in prison for the rest of my life. If I knew the future, I knew I would choose to not do it. |
I didn't want to do it. I had to. If I didn't, I would be thrown in prison for the rest of my life. If I knew the future, I knew I would choose to not do it. |
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At last. I have permission. The temptation to do it... it was to much to handle. I fumbled with the life fruit. I jumbled with the srcaps of metal. Each pound of the nail, each turn of the wrench... it gave me new-found strength. I was proud of my work. |
At last. I have permission. The temptation to do it... it was to much to handle. I fumbled with the life fruit. I jumbled with the srcaps of metal. Each pound of the nail, each turn of the wrench... it gave me new-found strength. I was proud of my work. |
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[[Category:Fan fiction]] |
Revision as of 20:52, 30 May 2012
Prologue
I didn't want to do it. I had to. If I didn't, I would be thrown in prison for the rest of my life. If I knew the future, I knew I would choose to not do it.
My name? Darrin Oliver. You could call me, an inventor. A mad scientist. An insane man, driven crazy by his creations. Possibly, most likely, a terrorist.
Chapter One
Ring! Ring! Ring! I got up lazely out of my warm, safe mattress... never see that again. It was an important day, you could say. It was my first day on my self-profession: inventing. It was time for America to see my true worth. I wasn't some jobless dead-beat anymore. I was a grown man, ready to tackle the day.
It was obvious the day was harder to tackle than originally thought.
First mistake: Put on sister's old jeans. (How did those get in there?!)
Second mistake: Spilled Cheerios all over the floor.
Get the jest?
After the fifty minutes of useless crap, I finally got to work on my newest invention: The Harvester. Amazed at my work, I quickly sold it. It made what felt like millions. It was beautiful.
If I knew what would happen soon, I would've quit.
Chapter Two
5 years later...
At last. I have permission. The temptation to do it... it was to much to handle. I fumbled with the life fruit. I jumbled with the srcaps of metal. Each pound of the nail, each turn of the wrench... it gave me new-found strength. I was proud of my work.